


Passive Aggressive

by relucant



Series: Grammar Games [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grammar Porn, M/M, Mario Kart, Nerd Castiel, Nerd Sam, Nobody's a Dick, Pie, Smut, Spelling & Grammar, Top Castiel, Tutoring, Verb Tenses, passive voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sighed.  "Fine.  That's all the actual homework I got, but tomorrow we're startin' active and passive verbs.  Not gonna lie, only thing I know about passive verbs is you ain't ever supposed to use 'em."</p>
<p>Cas groaned, running his hand through his hair.  "The archaic notion that the passive voice should be avoided at all costs has resulted in the most needlessly convoluted sentences in the English language," he grumbled.</p>
<p>Dean grinned at him.  "God, so sexy when you talk nerdy to me, professor-boy," he teased, and Cas flushed, ducking his head.  "Ooh, there's my blushing virgin."</p>
<p>"And he's going to <i>stay</i> that way if you don't shut up," Cas returned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passive Aggressive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoversAntiquities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/gifts).



> today actually marks the one-year anniversary of the birth of [As the Romans Do](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1379110/chapters/2886505), which was both my first foray into AO3 and my first attempt at writing fiction at all. so here, in its honor, have 7,000+ words of fluff, mario kart, grammar and dirty dirty porn.
> 
> as always, I tried to make sure the grammar described is actually, in fact, correct, but I am very, very far from infallible, so feel free to point out any errors!
> 
> thank you [tragidean](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) for the constant readings, comments, advice! enjoy your grammar, nerd. <3

Sam clomped through the front door just as the burgers were finishing cooking. Cas was surprised to recognize him from his US History class.

"But Dean told me you were a freshman," he said curiously. "How are you --?"

"I also told you he was a little nerd," Dean announced, flicking a dish towel at him. "How was nerd practice tonight, Sammy?"

"It was _debate club_ , Dean," he said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Cas, looking slightly embarrassed. "Um, I was in advanced classes in middle school and already took World History, so my guidance counselor arranged for me to take US History along with Geography in my free period."

"Nerd," Dean reiterated affectionately. "Good thing you got that Sasquatch height, blend right in."

"That's impressive," Cas said sincerely. "But Dean said you were very smart."

Sam scoffed. "Dean got all the _useful_ brains in the family." He ignored Dean's audible snort. "I just like school."

"Do you know yet where you'd like to go to college?"

"Oh," Sam mumbled, staring at his feet, "I'll probably just end up at Georgia State, or --"

"He's going to Stanford," Dean interrupted loudly. " _If_ they're lucky."

"Dean, we've been over this," Sam said with a long-suffering sigh. "Even if I got in, which is unlikely, there's no _way_ we could afford it."

"Damn right we been over this," Dean said, sliding the last burger onto a plate. "You worry that giant moose brain 'bout gettin' in an' we'll figure it out. Now eat." Sam shook his head, but took the plate Dean handed him. "Cas, grab some sodas from the fridge, wouldja?"

Cas obliged, coming up with three ice-cold Cokes, then sat down next to Dean. He eyed his burger dubiously, but a small moan escaped when he took a bite, juice dribbling down his chin.

"Eh?" Dean said, nudging him. "Not bad, huh?"

"Delicious."

"Dean would eat burgers for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I didn't make him get a salad once in awhile."

"S'not natural," Dean mumbled through a full mouth. "Fuckin' rabbit food."

"You're foul, Dean," Sam informed him. "How do you guys know each other anyway?"

A flush crept up Cas' throat, but Dean answered easily. "He's tutoring me in English. Smart-ass little prep school boy, you guys'll get along."

"Really?" Sam turned to him with interest. "Like an actual, for-real prep school?"

"I -- yes," Cas said, blush deepening. "My family lived in Boston, so I was able to come home relatively often. When we moved to Georgia, my parents didn't wish for me to be so far. And I admit, I didn't argue."

"God, I'd've _killed_ for that," Sam said with a wistful sigh, and Cas saw a brief scowl twist Dean's perfect features. "You didn't like it there?"

Cas shrugged. "I didn't hate it or anything. The academics were admittedly excellent. But it was a bit… oppressive. I'm not the most socially adept person to begin with, and I don't think the prep school environment helped."

"Seem plenty social to me," Dean said with a wink.

Sam caught it. "Oh, God," he said, shuddering. "Cas, don't let him corrupt you, I swear he --"

"All right, all right," Dean interrupted. "Cas already knows my rep, don't make it worse. Cas, what're your thoughts on leftover pie and Mario Kart?"

"Um, I've never played Mario Kart," he admitted. "And I've never actually had pie, either."

" _What_?" Sam and Dean turned to him with identical scandalized expressions.

"What?" he said defensively. "Video games were only permitted in the common area, and I preferred to stay in my room or outside."

"Okay, fine, but -- _pie_?"

"The cafeteria was not exactly gourmet." He shrugged. "Most of the desserts resembled either cardboard or rubber. Sometimes both."

Dean let out a theatrical groan. "Well, today's your lucky day. Think we got half an apple pie in the fridge, lemme go warm it up."

"I got some more ice cream on the way home," Sam volunteered. "Since _someone_ polished it off last night."

"You're the best little brother ever, Samantha," Dean declared, blowing him a sloppy kiss.

Half an hour later, Cas was flopped on the threadbare couch, Dean sitting next to him with their thighs pressed together. The pie pan sat empty on the coffee table, Dean having passionately eschewed plates in favor of filling the empty half of the pan with vanilla ice cream and passing around forks.

They played a few rounds of Mario Kart teaching Cas the basics, teasing him every time he ran off the road and Lakitu pulled him out of a lake or lava pit. Finally, once Cas was able to consistently beat at least some of the NPCs, Sam and Dean sat up straighter and their expressions turned serious.

At first Cas was shocked at the invectives the brothers hurled back and forth ("Dean, what does a _chicken-fucker_ even _mean_?"), but he caught on quickly to the good-natured taunting, and eventually he found himself contributing his own slightly more subdued commentary every time one of them hit him with a well-placed banana peel or a skilled green shell.

Sam and Dean even graciously ignored the fact that the first and only round Cas won was because when he shot off a blue shell while yelling _hey, assbutt!_ , they both ended up laughing so hard they couldn't stay on the track.

Despite the barrage of insults, Cas found himself enjoying the evening hugely, and he realized with a jolt how much he genuinely _liked_ both the Winchester boys. Dean's attitude was as cocky as ever, but around his little brother it melted into something affectionate and fiercely protective, tinged with self-deprecation. And despite Sam's exasperated eye-rolling, it was clear he thought that Dean was the greatest brother under the sun.

Finally Sam stood up, stretching his long arms until his fingers nearly brushed the ceiling.

"I've got an essay due next Monday that I've barely started," he said apologetically. "I need to put an hour or so into it."

"Ever heard the phrase _the night before_ , Sammy? Jeez, are you even a high school student?"

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. "See you in class tomorrow, Cas. It was cool to hang out with you." He paused. "Hey, uh, you wanna be partners for that group project next chapter? I've got a few ideas…"

Cas blinked at him in surprise. He'd been dreading the project, figuring he'd be stuck working alone, or randomly paired up with someone else who had no friends in the class.

Sam took his surprise for rejection and backtracked. "I mean, uh, you've probably already got a partner, and I'm sure you don't wanna work with the nerdy freshman anyway, I just thought I'd --"

"I'd love to, Sam," Cas interrupted, smiling. "I doubt anybody wants to work with the nerdy transfer student either, so we make a good pair."

"Awesome!" Sam declared, breaking into a grin.

"Are you guys done?" Dean let out a solemn belch. "I'm afraid the nerdiness is gonna rub off on me over here."

"Classy," Sam said, shaking his head and turning to the stairs. "Anyway. Night, Cas."

"Good night, Sam."

"Night, bitch," Dean called.

"Night, jerk," came Sam's voice from the landing, accompanied by a middle finger.

"I like him," Cas said with a smile.

"Oh, yeah. Little shit is a massive pain in my ass, but he's the greatest kid in the world." He stretched until his back popped, then glanced out the window, where Cas was surprised to see darkness had already fallen.

"Um, do you need me to drive you home?" Dean asked, ruffling his hair. "It's gettin' late, and I don't know if you --"

"I'm sorry," Cas stammered, scrambling to his feet. "I didn't realize it was -- I didn't mean to stay so long. I can find the bus, you don't need to put yourself --"

"Whoa, hey, sparky," Dean said, reaching out to grab Cas' wrist. "I don't _want_ you to go. Actually, uh, I was gonna ask if you could stay the night, but I know it's a school night, and I wasn't sure…"

"Really?" Cas asked, sitting back down hesitantly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Case you weren't aware, Cas, I'm kinda developin' a crush on you 'bout the size of the Chrysler Building. But I don't want you to get in trouble."

Cas snorted. "I'll let them know, but I'm pretty sure my parents have no idea what to do with all of their children under the same roof anyway."

"Yeah? You got brothers and sisters?"

"One of each," Cas said with a sigh. "Anna's thirteen, so she's a handful, but she's always lived there, so they're used to her."

Dean frowned. "No prep school for her? Why? Boys only type thing?"

Cas waved a hand. "Not at all. My parents aren't the warmest people, but their intentions are good. Anna's always been more inclined to the arts, and she's quite talented, I think, though I may be biased. Most prep schools focus on academics, while Boston had several schools highly-regarded for both their academics and arts programs. She managed to convince our parents to let her stay in town, barely. She wasn't thrilled to leave Boston, but she's already visited SCAD three times and has fallen in love with it."

Dean whistled. "Sounds like quite a kid.

"She is, as you put it, a 'massive pain in my ass'," Cas grumbled. "But I love her dearly, and I'm pleased that she's willing to fight for herself at a young age."

"Very cool," Dean agreed. "And you have a brother too?"

"Gabriel," Cas sighed. "He's two years older. Frankly, I'm surprised _he_ agreed to prep school, though I suppose the independence appealed to him. He always seemed to be on the brink of suspension, either academic or disciplinary, but somehow he made it through."

"Troublemaker?"

"To say the least. I know you've a reputation, but believe me, going through a tight-knit boarding school with Gabriel Novak as your predecessor is a special kind of hell.

Dean laughed out loud. "But he's living at home now?"

"Unfortunately. He wants to be a chef, but my parents' upper-class sensibilities balked at putting him through culinary school instead of college. But they compromised on paying for culinary classes in the evening as long as he got his bachelor's as well."

"Jeez, you really are a little rich boy, ain't you?" He meant it as a joke, but it came out flat, and Cas shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "I went to school with kids whose parents had private jets, who got a Jaguar for their sixteenth birthday. My mother is a surgeon and my father a professor, so I suppose we'd be considered quite wealthy. But I was one of the poorer students most of my life."

"Huh," Dean said, and Cas gave him a half-smile. He pulled out his phone, tapping away at it for a few moments.

"So that's it?" Dean asked curiously. "Your parents're cool with you spendin' the night at some random kid's house on a Tuesday? Not that I'm judging," he added hastily. "I mean, my dad ain't even home half the time. Just never met many others like me."

Cas shrugged. "I didn't even live with them for most of my adolescence," he reminded Dean. "When I moved home, they tried to put down some rules -- which I'm pretty sure they found in a book. But, to be frank, I'm a fairly boring person, and my parents and I quickly came to the agreement that it was less of a headache for everyone to leave me mostly to my own devices."

His phone buzzed in his lap. He swiped it open, and snorted. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I texted Gabe," Cas explained. "In case my parents were already asleep. Apparently my mother is looking forward to an extra hour of sleep instead of driving me to school."

"You don't take the bus?"

"I take it home. But we live an hour and a half away, by the bus. In the afternoon, I can use the time to finish homework, but in the morning, it picks up prohibitively early, so my mother drops me off before work." He glanced at the clock, then jumped slightly. "Shit. I forgot -- since I didn't take the bus today, I haven't started _any_ of my homework."

Dean hooked his foot around Cas' ankle. "Bet you could do it all before class anyway, right? Mr. Brainiac?"

Cas sighed, leaning into Dean. "Most of it, yes. But I have a two-page essay due second period. It shouldn't take long, but I don't think I can do it between classes."

Dean sighed exaggeratedly. "Fi-ine. I guess I haven't even done my actual English homework, since _somebody_ distracted me." He got up, depositing their empty dishes in the sink, then held out his hand at the stairs. Cas grabbed his hand, following him into his room.

They settled themselves onto Dean's mattress. Cas pulled his laptop out of his backpack, and Dean spread a few papers on the bed.

"What's your essay on, anyway?"

"Eliot," Cas said absently, rifling through his bag.

"Eliot?" Dean echoed. "Eliot who?"

Cas looked up, blinking. "T.S. Eliot. The American poet."

"Uh… oh," Dean said, flushing and looking down at his papers.

"Have you heard of the musical _Cats_?"

" _Cats_?" Dean said. "Yeah, 'course. Think Sammy made me listen before. Why?"

"If you're familiar with _Cats_ , then you're familiar with Eliot," Cas said with a small smile. "The musical is based on his poems."

"What? Really? All that shit about, like, Jellicle cats? Macavity and Mungojerrie?" Cas raised an eyebrow, and Dean blushed. "It's catchy, okay? Not like fuckin' _poetry_."

"It's _literally_ poetry," Cas said with a laugh. "But Prufrock is a bit more convoluted. Now shush for a minute, you're distracting enough as it is."

"Yeah, _I'm_ distracting," Dean huffed, but he flipped open a notebook, settling on his knees. 

They sat together in a comfortable silence, broken only by the shifting of papers and tapping of laptop keys. Cas resolutely ignored the way Dean chewed on his lower lip when he was thinking, but when Dean absently stuck his pen between his teeth, perfect lips wrapped around the tip, he couldn't help shifting uncomfortably. Dean glanced up inquiringly, until he noticed Cas staring at his mouth, and he smirked.

"Oral fixation," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, and Cas groaned.

"I've noticed. How is your homework coming along?"

Dean sighed. "Almost done with the first part. You mind lookin' it over when you're done with your poetry crap?"

"Of course. I only need a couple more paragraphs; give me five or ten minutes." He tapped away at the keyboard, occasionally picking up a notebook to rifle through his notes.

Finally he slid his fingers over the trackpad to save the file and shut the laptop with a flourish.

"Done!" he announced, shoving the laptop back into his bag. He held out his hand, and Dean handed over the worksheet.

Cas looked it over carefully, making occasional notes. He read it over again from the top, then handed it back to Dean.

"Thirteen and a half out of fifteen," he announced. "Not bad, for a self-proclaimed idiot."

Dean broke into a grin. "Thirteen and a half? No shit? That's like… a 90%!"

Cas blinked at him. "How did you --?" he began, but Dean ignored him.

"So what's the half then?"

Cas leaned over to look at the paper. Without thinking Dean wrapped his left arm around his back, and Cas blushed.

"That one," he said, pointing to one of the sentences. "You chose the correct verb form, but labeled it incorrectly."

"Huh," Dean said, tapping at the paper with his pen. "The weather _has been_ terrible so far this winter…" He paused, brow furrowed for a second before it smoothed out. "Has been so far -- that means it _still is_ , right? So it would be present perfect, not past perfect?"

Cas beamed at him. "You got it." He reached his right arm across his stomach to tangle his fingers into Dean's, still wrapped around his waist. "So how about number eight?"

Dean frowned down at it. "Yeah, I don't get that one," he admitted. "She cooks, she cooked, she will cook… why isn't that all simple? Simple present, simple past, simple future?"

Cas pointed to the beginning of the sentence. " _Right now_ ," he emphasized. "If you got a phone call halfway through dinner preparations, would you say, 'I can't talk right now, I cook'?"

"No-o," Dean said. "I'd say 'I'm cooking'. So… present progressive?"

"Gold star for you," Cas said with a smile.

"I can think of some better incentives," Dean pointed out, tickling him lightly. "But, okay, so -- the rest of the sentences -- I get for the sake of consistency, it would be 'Yesterday at this time she was cooking dinner' and 'Tomorrow at this time she will be cooking dinner', but I mean, _cooked_ and _will cook_ sound fine to me there."

Cas hummed thoughtfully. "You aren't wrong. Cooked and will cook would form correct, standard sentences as well, but the meaning would be slightly different. The simple past indicates a completed action, while the past progressive indicates what was happening at a given time. Does that make sense?"

"So those sentences aren't wrong by themselves," Dean said slowly. "But since I fucked up the present tense sentence, I fucked up the past and future the same way?"

"I think that explains it," Cas said with a laugh. "For example, if the first sentence had been given as 'Right now, she's cooking dinner', would you have still chosen _cooked_ and _will cook_ for the following two?"

"Well, no. It wouldn't've fit the pattern."

"And there you go." Cas leaned and pressed a kiss just behind Dean's ear, and Dean inhaled sharply. Cas grinned against his neck. "Sensitive?"

"Yes," Dean breathed. "Asshole. Do I get my reward for studying like a good little boy now?"

"Are you done with everything you need to do?" Cas asked, pulling away. Dean looked down guiltily, and Cas pinched him. "I'm serious, Dean. It's not terribly late yet, but if there's anything else you need to do, we need to do it now. Because once we get into bed, I don't think we're getting out any time tonight."

Dean smirked at him. "Weren't you s'posed to be the blushing virgin here?"

"Virgin, yes. More or less. Blushing… well, not _all_ the time."

"Mm… I like it when you do." He turned his head, catching at Cas' lips. Cas melted into the kiss, biting back a moan, then pushed Dean away reluctantly.

Dean sighed. "Fine. That's all the actual homework I got, but tomorrow we're startin' active and passive verbs. Not gonna lie, only thing I know about passive verbs is you ain't ever supposed to use 'em."

Cas groaned, running his hand through his hair. "The archaic notion that the passive voice should be avoided at all costs has resulted in the most needlessly convoluted sentences in the English language," he grumbled.

Dean grinned at him. "God, so sexy when you talk nerdy to me, professor-boy," he teased, and Cas flushed, ducking his head. "Ooh, there's my blushing virgin."

"And he's going to _stay_ that way if you don't shut up," Cas returned.

"Touché," Dean acknowledged. "Okay, so what does it _mean_ , though? I figure, like, active verbs are shit like run, jump, punch? Kiss, fuck?" He winked, and Cas rolled his eyes. "And passive's like… I dunno, want, exist, enjoy?"

Cas shook his head. "That makes logical sense, but you're thinking about it wrong. The active or passive voice refers to syntax, not semantics." Dean blinked at him quizzically. "The grammatical structure of the sentence," he clarified. "Not the meaning of the verbs themselves."

"Okay, I get that, but… No, I'm lyin', I don't get that at all," he admitted.

"Basically, the difference is whether the subject is _performing_ the action the verb refers to, or is _receiving_ the action. Take a sentence, like… uh, 'Dean cooked dinner'. What's the subject of the sentence?"

"Uh, me? Dean?"

"And the verb?"

"Cooked."

"So would that be active or passive, do you think?"

"Well, active, right? Because I did the cooking?"

"Mm-hmm. Now, what if we switched it around so that _dinner_ was the subject? How would you phrase the sentence?"

"Uh-h…" Dean thought for a moment. "Dinner… was cooked by me?"

"Yup. So…?"

"So," Dean said slowly, "that would be passive, because… dinner received the action of cooking?" Cas grinned at him in reply, and Dean raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? That's it?"

"That's it. Seriously."

"Jesus. No wonder you're a tutor."

"Well, there are perks to being taught English by snooty academicians, instead of indifferent middle-aged men who haven't actually read a new book in ten years."

"And lucky me, I get the side benefit of your prep school years." He winked. " _All_ of them."

"You are _incorrigible_ ," Cas informed him, laughing in spite of himself. "Anyway. Grammatically, the passive voice is constructed with a form of the verb _to be_ , followed by the past participle of the action verb."

"Past participle…?"

Cas thought for a moment. "I don't want to go into participles in too much depth --"

"Thank God," Dean interrupted.

"-- but with regular verbs, the past participle is identical to the past perfect. I _asked_ a question; a question _was asked_ by me. I can't think of a rule for irregular verbs, but you should be able to intuit it."

"Uh, _how_ 'm I s'posed to do that?"

"Well, if you see a form of _to be_ followed by a verb that appears to be in the past tense, you can assume it's likely passive. But if you were to take an active sentence such as 'I knew the answer', you wouldn't convert it to passive as 'The answer was knew by me', would you?"

"Course not, it'd be _was known_."

"Which you just intuited, as a native English speaker."

"Huh." Dean studied his paper for a few moments. "Okay, but what about sentences like… 'I sneeze around cats'. How can you make that passive?"

"You can't," Cas said simply. He scratched his chin. "Have you studied transitive and intransitive verbs yet?"

"Cas, we're still on past, present, future," Dean pointed out. "Gonna go with nope."

"Then I won't dwell on it, but essentially, transitive verbs have a direct object that received the action, like cook dinner, kick a ball, ride a horse. Intransitive verbs have no object -- _I sneeze_ , or an indirect object -- I sneeze _around cats_. Only transitive verbs can be in the passive voice."

"And… we're _not_ actually supposed to avoid passive?"

"If a teacher gives you that rule, follow it for his assignments, and then inform him he's a shitty teacher." Dean snorted. "In many kinds of academic or legal writing, it's advisable, even necessary. In literature, it's true that you should be aware of overusing it; eventually, you stop caring that the dogs _have been walked_ and dinner _has been cooked_ and want to see the action. But even then, you shouldn't ever twist a sentence around for no other purpose."

"Man, you actually make this crap kinda interesting," Dean admitted.

"Well, I find it interesting, so perhaps I'm more invested in talking about it in an interesting way."

"I guess. Shit, I think I actually understand this. Okay, so it works the same way for all the tenses, right? Perfect progressive back to the future bullshit an' all?"

"Mm-hmm. So give me a sentence in simple present, active and passive.

"I like you," Dean said immediately. "You are liked by me."

Cas blushed. "You are liked by me as well, Dean. You are liked by me very much." He cleared his throat. "How about… past progressive?"

"Hmm," Dean drawled. He licked his lips, and Cas' eyes dropped to track the slow motion of his tongue. Dean reached over, letting his fingers trail down the inside of Cas' jeans. "How about… A few hours ago, I was sucking your cock. So a few hours ago, your cock was being sucked… by me."

"Y-yes," Cas groaned. His head fell back, hitting the wall with a thunk, and his knees fell slightly open instinctively.

"Mmm, I like the passive voice," Dean murmured, his voice low and sultry. "Don't think I like callin' it _passive_ , though… Didn't _feel_ very passive, when your cock was sucked by me." He crawled off the bed, sliding down until he was perched on his knees, looking up at Cas through his lashes. "I think I'll call it the _submissive_ voice. Help me to remember it, you know?"

He ran his hands up and down Cas' denim-clad legs, letting his thumbs linger dangerously close to the obvious bulge at the crotch. "So, just to make sure I understand everything… in the perfect not-too-distant future… you will have fucked my brains out, right? And my brains will have been fucked out, by you?"

Cas stared down at him at him for a moment, breathing heavily. Then, suddenly, with surprising strength, he reached down and hauled Dean off the floor, shoving him to the bed and straddling his waist.

"Holy shit," Dean breathed, staring up at him. "Guess you got top-notch PE classes in those prep schools too, huh?"

"I run." His voice had gone even more gravelly, impossibly deep, and Dean's hips jerked automatically at the tone. He reached up, tugging Cas' shirt up to his armpits, and Cas pulled it the rest of the way off. Cas shifted until he could pull Dean's off as well, and they stared at each other. Dean ran his hand down Cas' chest, pausing to toy gently at the barbell in his navel, and Cas inhaled sharply.

"Sensitive?" Dean mimicked with a wicked smirk.

"It never _used_ to be."

"What, I'm special?"

Cas let his eyes roam over the expanse of exposed skin, then reached up to drag the pad of his thumb behind Dean's ear, drawing out a groan.

"I think so."

Dean wrapped his hands around Cas' shoulders, pulling him down, and Cas fell against him willingly, wrapping one hand in Dean's hair and sliding the other behind his neck. Hot, wet tongues explored each other's mouths, until Cas realized he was rutting shamelessly against Dean without realizing it, and he pulled away slightly.

"Fuck," he murmured, swiping at his spit-slick lips.

"S'the idea," Dean rolling his hips pointedly.

"Wait, Dean, I --"

Dean stilled instantly, and his eyes went wide. "Cas, baby, I mean it -- we don't have to do anythin'. I _know_ I got a rep, but I really do like you, man, 'm not just tryin' to get my rocks off. We can just --"

He shut up when Cas leaned back down to kiss him again, then slid his mouth over to trace his tongue over the shell of his ear, before sucking on the sensitive spot behind it. Dean arched and moaned, and something warm twisted into Cas' belly, because _he_ did this, he drew those sounds out of Dean Winchester.

Finally he sat back, dragging his fingers down Dean's arms. "Sorry," he said, slightly sheepish.

Dean stared at him in disbelief. " _Sorry_? For --?"

"Um -- for the mixed signals, I guess? I just meant -- I _do_ want this, Dean. Very, very much. I just…" He paused, a flush creeping up his neck. "I don't really… know how."

He expected Dean to burst out laughing, or make some smartass comment, but instead, visible relief broke over his face.

"That's all?" he asked, running a fingertip over Cas' lips. "Dude, just 'cause you're hot as fuck don't mean I'm expecting you to be a virgin sex god. An' I know I got my rep, but -- tell anyone this and I'll kill you -- s'not really like I am either. I mean, I'm no virgin, and I _think_ I'm pretty all right, but -- _oh_ ," he groaned, as Cas ground down on him. "You're -- you're sure?"

"Yes," Cas said. He shifted down Dean's legs until he could unbutton his jeans, and Dean tilted his hips so Cas could yank them down his thighs, dragging his boxers down after, pulling them off and tossing to the floor.

Without warning he dropped his head, mouthing at Dean's cock.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Dean growled. "Cas -- you know you don't have to --"

"I know I don't," Cas murmured, pulling off and gazing up at him, eyes shimmering blue even in the dull light of the floor lamp. "But I haven't got to taste you yet. And I _have_ done this before."

He bent down again and licked at the head, tasting the precome gathering at the tip, then wrapped his lips around and sank down his length.

"Oh my _God_ ," Dean grated out. "Take it back -- I _am_ thinkin' you're a virgin sex god here. Jesus _Christ_."

Cas just hummed, gripping Dean's hips as he licked slowly up and down.

"Cas," Dean hissed, tugging at his hair. "Cas -- y'gotta -- 'm gonna --"

"Do you want me to stop?" Cas asked, lips moving against his cock.

" _Fuck_ \-- no, Jesus no, but -- Cas, fuck, I'm gonna come so quick if you don't…"

Cas stared up at him, suckling lightly at the head, then slowly took him all the way into his throat, not breaking eye contact.

"Oh, _shit_ ," he groaned, scrabbling desperately at the sheets with one hand and throwing his other arm over his eyes. Cas swallowed around him once and he thrust up, arching, spilling hot into Cas' mouth.

Cas licked and sucked him gently through his orgasm, until Dean's hips sank back to the mattress and his breathing settled down. He pulled off and lay down at Dean's side, stroking his hair.

"Stop looking so smug," he mumbled without moving his arm, but a smile curved on his lips.

"No," Cas returned, leaning down to kiss him, then paused. "I'm sorry, I -- I really did want to, you know -- have sex tonight. But you're so _beautiful_ , I didn't want to stop, and, and --"

"Hold up," Dean said, interrupting Cas' babbling and finally dropping his arm. "What d'you mean, _did_ want to?"

"Well, I mean -- you already -- I don't want to --"

"Cas, baby, we're _teenagers_. Probably only time in our lives we can get it up again. If you think I'm rollin' over and goin' to sleep after _that_ blowjob…"

Cas sucked in a breath. "You mean -- we can still --?"

"I mean, I need a minute, yeah, but how 'bout you put your unnecessarily partially-clothed self to use and go get us some water, huh?"

"I -- yes, of course." He kissed Dean again, then rolled off the bed, trying to adjust himself in his jeans. Finally he gave up, pulling on the nearest t-shirt and stumbling down the stairs.

He was poking through the cabinets for glasses when a voice spoke up behind him. "To the left, over the stove."

Cas jumped, turning around with a start, and Sam smirked at him. "Oh. Um. Thanks. Uh, we were finishing homework, and it's a bit late, so --"

"Cas," Sam interrupted, "this house is small and the walls are thin." Cas looked down, and his face turned beet-red. "And also, you're wearing Dean's shirt."

Cas groaned, dropping his head into his hand, but Sam just laughed, open and genuine.

"Dude, word of advice? Don't take Dean's rep _too_ seriously. I mean, yeah, he's no saint, but…" Sam paused, chewing on his lip. "I think he really likes you. You're the first person he's brought back here since Lisa in tenth grade."

"Really?" Cas asked before he could stop himself.

"Really," Sam said, smiling. "And in exchange for that information, you've got to promise to never tell him I said so."

"Promise," Cas avowed. "Thank you, Sam."

"Yeah, yeah. Just _try_ to keep it to a dull roar, okay? I mean, I live with him, and am gonna be working with you in class, so…" He shuddered, and Cas' blush returned. "But seriously. I'm going to sleep, and I do _not_ want that shit in my dreams." He waved over his shoulder and disappeared.

Cas filled up two glasses of cold water and tromped back up the stairs. When he pushed open the door to Dean's room, Dean was sprawled out on his side, eyes closed and a smile on his lips.

Disappointment curled in Cas' chest, but he set the water glasses down gently. He switched off the light and went to take off his jeans. A hand shot and grabbed his wrist before he even got the button undone.

"Thought we weren't done yet?" Dean said, a lazy smile on his face.

"I -- yes, no, I -- I thought you were asleep."

"Definitely not," Dean said, stretching. "Gimme some water, though." He guzzled half the glass Cas gave him, then lay back. "Time is it?"

"10:30," Cas said, glancing at Dean's phone on the floor.

"Early," Dean said, pulling Cas to the bed. "And you're still clothed."

"I -- we can --"

"Remedy that?" Dean finished. He sat up, clumsily undoing Cas' jeans, and Cas squawked when Dean yanked them unceremoniously down his legs. "Sorry -- is -- is this okay?"

"No," Cas muttered, and Dean drew back immediately. "I'm afraid I'm going to come as soon as you touch me." Dean grinned, shoving Cas' jeans and boxers down his legs until he was naked, pressed against Dean's side.

"It's okay," Dean assured him, pulling him in for a kiss. "But if you don't want to come yet, you could, you know. Um. Prepare me, instead." He bent his knees, blushing, but staring at Cas darkly. "Or, uh. I could prepare myself, if you want."

"Fuck, no," Cas breathed. "I want to do it. But… you'll help me?"

"Yeah, Cas." Dean had a soft smile on his face. "I'll help you." He reached over into a small box next to his bed, then pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. Popping open the cap, he drizzled lube over Cas' fingers, then took his hand and reached behind himself.

"Just like that," he whispered, dropping his head as he urged Cas' middle finger inside him. "Jesus -- yeah. More." 

Cas sank his finger in to the base, and Dean sucked in his breath.

"Y-yeah," he said, raggedly. "Now -- another."

Cas pressed his index finger alongside, tentatively, rubbing along the rim, only the tip slipping inside.

"Cas," Dean whined, eyes closed. "C'mon -- _please_..."

Cas took a deep breath, then worked a finger in alongside the first, watching the way Dean's eyes fluttered shut and his cock hardened.

"Stretch them," Dean gasped. "Carefully. Fuck -- please."

Cas flexed his fingers, scissoring them gently, then added a third when Dean mewled for more. His middle finger brushed across something deep inside, and Dean choked back a scream.

Cas froze. "Are you --"

"Ready," Dean gasped. "Come on, come on, 'm ready."

Cas spread his fingers once more inside Dean, drinking in his groan. "You're sure?"

" _Yes_ ," Dean hissed. "C'mon, gonna come again if you keep touchin' me like that. Want you inside me so bad."

Cas drew his fingers out, then hesitated, and Dean smirked at him.

"Want me on top of you, angel?" he murmured, turning them over until he was astride Cas. "Maybe next time, you'll bend me over the bed, but this time?"

"Yes," Cas said, blushing again.

"Cas," Dean said, eyes open and honest. He leaned down and kissed him, soft and sweet, until Cas moaned and arched up, erections sliding together.

"Jesus," Dean muttered, pulling away. "This is not how I expected English tutoring to turn out."

"I hope you're not complaining."

"Nope." He grinned down at Cas, then reached for the condom, tearing it open with his teeth.

"Um," Cas said awkwardly. "Are you sure we -- I mean, I know I don't, you know, have anything…"

"Hey, if I get to be the first idiot you have sex with, I sure ain't gonna teach you bad habits," Dean informed him. He rolled the condom on then poured more lube over it, and Cas whimpered at the sensation of Dean's warm hands slicking up his cock.

Dean gave him a wicked grin. "If you think _that_ feels good, baby, I got somethin' more to show you…"

"So cocky," Cas murmured, but he watched wide-eyed as Dean rose up to his knees, shifting until he could tease his own hole with the head of Cas' cock.

"You're _sure_?" Dean whispered one last time, staring into Cas' eyes.

"Yes," Cas gasped. "Dean, please… I am so -- fucking -- sure…"

Dean's neglected dick twitched visibly at the profanity. Cas reached for it, but Dean batted his hand away.

"So fuckin' hot when you swear. Touch me an' I'm gonna come before we even get started."

Cas let out a frustrated whine, which melted into a low, drawn-out groan as Dean sank down slowly, until the head of his cock was wrapped in tight wet heat. He threw his head back, screwing his eyes shut.

Dean smacked him lightly on the hip. "Open your eyes for me, baby. Wanna see those gorgeous baby blues while you fuck me."

Cas stared at him, the moonlight filtering in through the small windows turning his tanned skin pale. His hips jerked reflexively, and Dean sucked in a surprised gasp.

"Sorry -- sorry," Cas stammered, stilling himself, but Dean just sank down further, muscles flexing in his thighs.

"It's fine," Dean assured him shakily, working himself down inch by inch. "Fuck, s'more than fine. Feel so good inside me. So fucking good."

Finally he was fully seated, and he exhaled slowly.

"Are you --?"

"I'm fuckin' great, Cas. Just need a second, okay?"

Cas nodded, trailing his hands over every bit of Dean's body he could reach.

Dean breathed in and out steadily for a minute, then shifted his hips experimentally, and Cas groaned, arching his back.

"Okay," Dean said, licking his lips. "Okay. You can move."

"I don't -- how should I --"

Dean rose up until he'd pulled halfway off his cock, then sank down again all at once. Cas instinctively met him halfway, and Dean cried out, head falling back.

"Fuck, yeah, just like that. Shit, baby, you're a natural."

"You -- you feel so _good_ ," Cas murmured in awe, rolling his hips shallowly.

"So good," Dean echoed. "Fuck, Cas -- _harder_ \--" He rose to his knees until the head of Cas' cock was barely inside him, and this time when he sank down Cas thrust up hard, and Dean keened.

"Yeah, baby. Jesus, Cas, your fuckin' cock, feels so good. Hard, baby, fuck, like that…"

Somewhere in Dean's babbling they found a rhythm, Dean bouncing shamelessly in his lap and Cas gripping Dean's knees for leverage. Then Cas bent his legs, planting his feet on the bed. He moved his hands to Dean's hips, urging him up, then slammed in as hard as he could.

Dean's eyes went wide, the new angle driving Cas' cock directly against his prostate, and only his hands braced on Cas' chest stopped him from falling forward.

"Too -- too much?" Cas asked, slowing his thrusts.

" _N-no_. Right there, right fucking there…" He reached down and rubbed his fingertips over Cas' nipple, pinching slightly, and Cas' hips stuttered, grinding into Dean.

"Dean, I'm -- I'm close, I'm going to --"

"Yeah, fuck, me too. Do it, baby, come for me…" He reached down and fisted himself, fucking himself back harder onto Cas' cock. With his other hand he pinched Cas' other nipple roughly.

Cas went rigid, choking back a harsh cry. He shoved Dean down onto his cock as hard as he could, grinding his hips as he came with a guttural groan.

Dean stroked himself faster, staring down at Cas' face as he shuddered through his orgasm. Suddenly he stilled, head falling back and mouth open, come spilling over his fingers and dripping onto Cas' belly.

They drew in several deep, gasping breaths, then Dean went limp, toppling over onto Cas' chest.

"That was fuckin' amazing," he muttered, not bothering to pull off of Cas' softening cock.

"Mmgh," Cas mumbled, looping his arms over Dean's sweat-slick back.

Dean looked up. "Hey," he said, stroking Cas' jaw. "You okay?"

Cas finally opened his eyes, and he gave Dean a weak smile. "I'm good. Just a little… overwhelmed."

"In a good way?" Dean teased, but a hint of anxiety played around his eyes as he felt Cas tense underneath him.

"In a good way," Cas said softly. "It's just --" He hesitated. "Was that -- okay? I mean, was I -- I don't --" He cut himself off again, trying to shift away, but Dean held him steady. "I'm okay, I promise, you don't have to -- I can leave…"

"Whoa, whoa," Dean said. "First place, that was so far beyond _okay_ I don't even know what to call it. Second place, like fuck you're leavin'. I need my post mind-blowing orgasm cuddles."

Cas stopped moving, but he didn't relax. Dean had just opened his mouth again when something that sounded like a shoe thunked against the wall.

"That was the opposite of a _dull roar_ , you guys," Sam's voice floated through from the other side. "Dean, you're paying for my therapy."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get you some noise-canceling headphones," he called. "Now go to sleep, bitch."

"Jerk," came the reply, accompanied by the thump of the other shoe.

Dean groaned, turning back to Cas, but at the look of sheer horror on Cas' face he immediately burst out laughing. After a moment, a snicker escaped from Cas' lips, and the awkward tension dissolved into a shared fit of giggles.

"Poor Sam," Cas said at last, wiping his eyes.

"He'll get over it." He finally pulled off of Cas, rolling gingerly to the side. He grabbed another t-shirt, swiping at the drying mess on their stomachs and between his legs. "Should shower, but… morning?"

"God, yes," Cas mumbled. He reached down, pulling off the condom, making a face. "Um -- what do I --?"

"Uh, just kinda tie it off, throw it in the garbage by the corner."

Cas twisted it into a knot then threw it at the corner, where it landed with a wet squelch. He sniffed his fingers, grimacing at the rubbery smell.

"Yeah, kinda grody," Dean agreed. "Forgive me if I don't blow you again 'til we get a shower."

"Forgiven, I suppose." Cas yawned. "I mean, you have given me three unbelievable orgasms already today."

"And we only had half the day," Dean agreed. He tossed the dirty t-shirt to the floor and lay back down, pulling Cas against his chest and entangling their legs. They lay together in contented silence for a few minutes, and Cas was beginning to drift off when Dean spoke again.

"Maybe… if you'd want -- maybe we should get tested?" he said tentatively. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm clean," he rushed to add. "Never been, y'know, unsafe, but I mean. Can catch stuff from blowjobs too. And I wanna, y'know... really feel you."

"Okay," Cas agreed, warmed by the thought that maybe Dean really _didn't_ want this to just be a one-night thing. Or a one-afternoon, one-evening and one-night thing, he amended with a small smile.

"What're you smirking about?" Dean asked, tickling his ribs lightly.

"Nothing," Cas said. He reached up, stroking Dean's ribs. "It's just -- this isn't how I expected today to turn out either."

"Seriously. Amazing sex with a hot little nerd who turned out to be pretty fuckin' cool. And I even learned some shit."

"Good things do happen, Dean."

"Guess so. Even in bullshit English tutoring."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://relucant.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/relucanting).
> 
> I'm nice.


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